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Quatrain Soldier Poems | Quatrain Poems About Soldier

These Quatrain Soldier poems are examples of Quatrain poems about Soldier. These are the best examples of Quatrain Soldier poems written by international PoetrySoup poets

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Details | Quatrain | |

The little soldier boy

His daddy is fighting in Iraq.
His mommy is fighting tears.
His brother is fighting death.
He is fighting his desolation and fears.

Friends are but a dream
and companions are an illusion.
School is a concentration camp,
but he stands, though alone, in the midst of confusion.

His training school is loneliness.
His milestones are fears, thrust in lies.
His only weapon is faith
and his bullets are soft "hallelujah" cries.

Strength left his fragile body
and he lost the fight in life so coy,
yet on his knees he conquered agony
and I call him the little soldier boy.


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Soldier Boy

Once there was a soldier boy,
young and brave and smart.
He had some questions bugging him,
they tore his brain apart.

He went along to ask his friends-
''Why there can't be peace?''
They just laughed into his face,
''Let us tell you what peace means:

';Peace means love, peace means hope
peace means painless, fearless trust.
There's no love, there's no hope,
all the fearless lay in dust.''

He went along to ask the trees,
the plants and flowers too.
Then they all replied to him
''Answers we have few:

People kill themselves and us,
they cut us up for fire.
And with the fire that they cut
the tension becomes higher.''

Soldier boy then went to war,
questions still in mind.
He kept on searching in the field,
for answers he can't find.

He walked up to the enemy,
beat starts to increase.
''Tell me, good man, tell me please 
why there can't be peace?''

The man pointed his gun to him,
aiming to his heart.
''I'm sorry, young man,'', then he said
''I really hate this part.''

---

Once there was a soldier boy,
young and smart and brave.
He had some questions bugging him,
they took him to his grave.


Details | Quatrain | |

My Country

My country is home, 
I have no fear. 
My country is home, 
and I am here. 


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One Out Of Three

That homeless guy out on the corner,
Carrying a sign that says he’s hungry;
Maybe he’s just a drunk or a ‘stoner’, 
But he might be that one-out-of-three.

That one-out-of-three is a veteran,
Who in uniform served his country.
There’s a good chance he has an addiction,
Or is still suffering from PTSD.

One out of three of those ones-out-of-three
Fought in one of America’s wars.
Did he scream on a beach in Normandy,
Or did he at Inchon go ashore.

Did he hunt Charlie in a rice paddy?
Was he in the Balkans, or lost in the sand?
One out of three of those ones-out-of-three,
Were the heroes who once took a stand.

If you can spare a few dollars, then feed them.
If not, at least hear what they say.
Their country may no longer need them, 
But they don’t deserve to be thrown away.

They might not have all bled in battle, 
But each one came home a casualty.
With your help, they may someday be able
To leave the ranks of the one-out-of-three.


Details | Quatrain | |

I Can Only Touch The empty Air

I cannot look in your eyes from here,
To touch your soul with my gaze.
Your too far away to reach, My Dear,
To be taken in by my embrace.

My whispered thoughts cannot extend to there--
Where you are's too far away.
I can only touch the empty air
Instead of holding you near always.

So many men between you and I.
I envy each one his place.
Oh, to be at the head of that line,
Looking at you again face to face.

Wonder of wonders, fate of all fates...
I chose to be where I am:
Sitting alone laughing at regrets,
Cursing the notion "what might have been".

I wish I could steal your heart to here
And keep it captive near mine.
But hearts are only given, it's clear...
All I can do is offer you mine.


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And Soldier No More

Fold the flag
Triangular show
Country contain me
And soldier no more

Place in a box
In three corners neat
Over the mantle
In silent entreat

How many knew him
How many cared
Was madness that slew him
And madness that dared

Where will it end
And where will it go
A lifetime has ended
And soldier no more

Spirit inside it
And never unfold
Defender behind us
A story untold

Is life better now
That we have made death
Did justice prevail
Or did it digress

The story should tell
A sacrifice made
But history dictates
And debts go unpaid


Details | Quatrain | |

Poetic Soldier

Battling the page,
Writers block at the brink.
Assassinated words,
Hemorrhage colored ink.

Rivers of ink flow,
From a massacre of words.
Stanzas of pain, grace the page,
Like of flock of olden birds.

Ballpoint swords strike:
In written catastrophe.
A stained battlefield resides,
With bloody poetry.


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The Vikings

The Vikings were a race of men
That conquered many lands
They fought their wars with might and main
And power in their hands
They sailed the sea in dragon ships
Explored and conquered well
But now their greatness lies beneath
The rolling ocean swell


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Rappelez Vous, Remember

Rappelez-Vous
(English translation below original French)

Rappelez-vous les petits fils 
Qui ecoutaient leurs grand-peres
Raconter des histoires d’ infanteries 
Et de battailles de la premiere guerre.

Rappelez-vous des braves garcons 
Qui s’imaginaient etre des soldats,
Qui plus tard servaient le drapeau American 
En tant que veritables soldats.

Rappelez-vous des pauvres parents
Qui ont recu des telegrammes et des lettres,
Et qui apres ont place indefiniment
Des etoiles d’ors aux fenetres.

Rappelez-vous de chaque petite amie
Qui esperait un jour se marier
Avec son beau voisin-ami
Qui ne va jamais plus rentrer.

Rappelez-vous des nouvelles jeunes veuves,
Avec ses petits orphelins des peres,
Qui devaient subir les enormes  epreuves
D’elever leurs enfants sans l’aide des peres.

N’oubliez pas les anciens jeunes garcons—
Les chanceux qui ont survecu
Et regardent souvent  les horizons lointains
Cherchant leures ami-fantomes qui ne sont jamais revenues.


Remember

Remember the grandsons
Who listened to their grandfathers
Tell stories of infantries
And battles of the first war.

Remember brave boys
Who pretended to be soldiers
Who later served the American flag
As real soldiers

Remember the poor parents
Who received telegrams and letters
And who afterward indefinitely placed
Gold stars in their windows.

Remember each girlfriend
Who hoped to marry someday
Her handsome neighbor/friend
Who will never come back again.

Remember the new young widows,
With their little fatherless children
Who had to undergo the enormous ordeals
Of raising children without a father’s help.

Don’t forget the former young boys-
The lucky ones who survived,
And often look at the far horizons
For their phantom-friends that never returned.


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The 90s

I somehow missed the nineties
As far as pop culture was concerned
I spent a lot of it overseas
Watching as the Balkans burned

I had learned Russian for the Army
But the Russian Bear was no longer wild
About the time they reunited Germany
I gained a brand new wife and child

With the fall of the Soviet Union
I thought the world might finely be sane
Then I cross trained into Serbo-Croatian
As Yugoslavia went up in flame

The Army was not a free ride
I did several deployment rotations
Monitoring war crimes like genocide
Or in Macedonia with the United Nations

The nineties ended quietly
At least from what I remember
I was focused then on family
Until that fatal 11 September


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No Place Like Home

I struggled, got her words just right
as I revised for half a night.
Onto the battlefield she rode
my glorious soldier named Ode.

Her rival said - "she's much too long!"
another nagged - "..setting's all wrong."
Broken and bruised my warrior stayed
doing her job, somewhat dismayed.

Hours before the contest was done
came this brassy note, only one.
"As I read,  your piece was just fine
You just skipped ev'ry other line."

Front lines were chosen, mine were not.
My Ode retreated, proud to have fought.
Humbled, she found the road back home;
the battlefield is no place to roam.


2
   


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Soldier Right Outside

The wind blows hard
And the trees are shaken
In the fall they loose their leaves
To bare the winter naked

The trees shiver slightly
As the ice forms on their branches
The snow lays so lightly
And glistens in the sun

The trees have a strong foundation
When all other forces of nature attack
Like soldiers for our nation
They will not back down from a fight

Every spring they are green once more
They have withstood the winter
Their beauty is held in store
Until warm months are there

The trees thrive on the rain
It brings them life in summer days
It relieves them of their pain
They survive another season

The trees change there outfit
They look like pumpkin pie, and pilgrims
Though still they never sit
They are always standing tall, until...

The trees
Are cut by humans
They fall down to their knees
The one force they cannot withstand

The trees provide us shelter
But how do we repay them?
We stick them in a fire, and watch them swelter 
The trees are strong, but not strong enough

The trees can't stop us
They just don't know
So this is why I'm making a fuss
Save the trees... before they all go...


Details | Quatrain | |

Old Soldier

  He had sailed the living oceans
fought great evil in the war,
but  inside the broken boundaries
of his world,
I found a scar,
running from the massive mountain
of his hero heart of hearts
to the ever flowing fountain
of the goodness 
he imparts,
t'was the scar made by a maiden
with a silver handled blade,
slicing through foreverafter
to the horrors of the shade
left for dead the new tomorrows
lie in tatters on the way
to the memory of sorrows
that she excised on that day,
when at  last she put assunder
what no man should tear apart
broke the vows that they were under
and betrayed a broken heart.